


Christmas Present

by indiefic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1970s, 1970s Steggy, Alternate Universe, F/M, older peggy/younger steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: An AU that breaks off near the end of Endgame.  When Steve went to find a life, he went to the 1970s.For the 2019 Steggy secret santa on tumblr.  Sorry it's late!
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 24
Kudos: 172





	Christmas Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spootzl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spootzl/gifts).



**1970**

**Washington D.C.**

  
  


“How did he get to Zola?” Pierce demands, slamming his hand on the table as he stares at Fury.

Peggy looks at Pierce, noting how agitated he is. Taking a deep breath, she turns to Fury. “With Reinhardt and Fennhoff, this makes three.” 

Fury nods. 

Pierce curses under his breath and shakes his head. “Someone is murdering our most valuable assets.”

Fury’s voice is measured as he says, “Or someone is wiping out Hydra scientists.”

Shaking his head, Pierce says darkly, “The war is ancient history. These men were  _ our _ assets. SHIELD assets.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Fury says, “I’m not sure the war is over.”

Pierce narrows his eyes.

“Say what you mean,” Peggy orders.

Fury takes a breath. “Reinhardt and Fennhoff,” he says, “those were ...  _ clinical _ . Precise work.”

“As if the assassin were checking off a list,” Peggy says.

Fury nods. “But Zola ...” He makes a face. “With Zola, it was personal.”

“Who is left who could possibly have an ax to grind with Zola?” Pierce asks incredulously.

“Aside from me,” Peggy offers. She has never been comfortable with the deal they made with Zola. It was a devil’s bargain and she suspects they will one day pay the price.

Pierce frowns. 

“That will be all, Agent Fury,” Peggy says, effectively ending the meeting.

* * *

The next target isn’t a person, but a place.

A series of precisely timed explosions destroy the contents of subbasement five, without causing any damage to the rest of the SHIELD facility at Camp Lehigh.

It takes Peggy a frustrating amount of time to discover what subbasement five was being used for. Peggy isn’t at Camp Lehigh often. Typically her days are spent at the SHIELD offices in Washington. The last time she’d taken any interest in that part of the facility, it was overflow space for Hank Pym. But it appears that Arnim Zola had been working on an experimental computer network. It was a total loss.

The fact that Peggy hadn’t known about Zola’s experiment is enough to make her very concerned. 

* * *

It’s after hours when Pierce knocks on the door to her office. He enters without an invitation, closing the door behind himself. Slowly, he walks across the room. There’s something inappropriately casual about his movements. Not a subordinate coming to see his superior. Something more intimate. Or  _ trying _ to be more intimate. Peggy feels like he’s been trying for a while now, all without any encouragement from her.

Looking at Pierce, Peggy is reminded of another young man she once knew. The young man with all American looks and charm. Determination. Persistence. Courage. Strength.

She wonders if Pierce’s facade would have fooled her. If his superficial resemblance to the long dead Steve Rogers would have been enough to lull her into complacency. Would it have encouraged her to give him the benefit of the doubt? She hopes not, but she truly doesn’t know.

Pierce walks around her desk. She swivels in her chair to face him. He leans in, bracing his hand against the desk. “This isn’t a joke,” he says gravely. “I want to put guards on you.”

“Absolutely not,” she says flatly, leaning back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“ _ Peggy _ , this is serious,” Pierce presses. “This assassin has infiltrated highly secured SHIELD facilities without leaving a trace.”

She has never told him to address her by her first name. To his credit, he does it sparingly. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t a former Hydra scientist,” Peggy replies dryly.

He takes a deep breath, regroups. “Look, the holidays are coming up. Staffing is going to be low.”

“So you think that now, of all times, we should assign additional operatives so they can watch me sip eggnog?”

She can feel the shift in him. His nascent attempts at seduction aren’t working, so he switches tactics. “Director - “

“No,” she snaps. “This is not up for discussion.”

Pierce purses his lips together. He shakes his head, accepting defeat. “What are you doing for the holidays?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Peggy says blandly. “Perhaps I’ll visit my nephew.” She eyes Pierce. “And you? Heading to Utah as usual?”

He nods. “Yeah. The kids with both be home.”

“Good,” she says. “Have a nice holiday with your family. I’ll see you in the new year.”

* * *

It’s very late on Christmas Eve when Peggy finally heads out. She stayed at the office, working through a backlog of reports. There are never enough hours in the day. By the time she sets out to her house in the Virginia suburbs, the weather has turned and it’s beginning to sleet. The roads are treacherous, and she is forced to take her time, something with irritates her to no end.

In Peggy’s neighborhood, many of the houses are decorated for the holidays. Festive lights and decorations. Her stately home, at the end of the block, is dark, as usual. For years, her nephew has gently encouraged her to find something ‘more appropriate’. She acknowledges his point. The house is too large for just her. And for all the warmth and charm of the neighborhood, the house is rather isolated, tucked back from the street, shrouded with tasteful, but copious, landscaping.

Her nephew invited her to spend the holidays with him, as usual. Peggy enjoys the company of her nephew, his wife, and their children. However, she can’t help feeling a bit of a fifth wheel, the aging aunt with nowhere else to go. This year she declined. She plans to have a quiet holiday at home.

She pulls her car into the attached garage and makes her way into the darkened house. The housekeeper has tidied up and left food in the fridge. There are only a few lights on in the house.

Peggy hangs up her coat and walks down the hallway toward the kitchen. The walls are lined with photos of family and friends. More and more, the people in the photographs exist only in her memories. There are times, like these, when she feels the passage of time acutely.

In the kitchen, Peggy doesn’t open the fridge. Instead, she heads for the pantry. She grabs the bottle of whiskey, foregoing the eggnog, and pours herself a drink. She takes a slow sip, savoring the burn.

“Drinking alone on Christmas Eve?”

She startles, spinning to face the darkened corner of her kitchen. When she sees who it is, she relaxes. Though her heart begins beating faster for an entirely different reason. 

Carefully, she sets down the glass, ignoring the relief she feels. She snorts. “I thought it might be Alex.”

Slowly, Steve stands, taking several steps toward her. His voice is low and gravely as he says, “Is Alexander Pierce in the habit of showing up in your kitchen unannounced?” His tone leaves no question as to how he feels about that possibility, and Peggy has to suppress a shiver.

“No,” Peggy admits. “But Alex becomes bolder with each passing year.” It’s a trait Steve shares, though she keeps that thought to herself. Grabbing another glass, she pours him a drink and holds it out to him.

His actions are deliberate as he takes the glass, his fingers resting lightly against hers for too long for it to be an accident. Flustered, she turns, heading for her living room. 

They’ve been playing with this tension for months, ever since he returned. Initially, her primary reaction was wonder at the fact that he was alive. Relief. She hadn’t realized just how profoundly she missed him. Not Captain America, but  _ Steve _ . He was a friend, an ally. And she hadn’t known, until that moment, how rare those had become in her life.

But beyond the miracle of his return, there was more. It didn’t take Peggy long to realize that the lingering looks and flimsy excuses for contact weren’t entirely on her side. Steve Rogers wanted something. 

He still wants something.

Peggy flips on a dim lamp and takes a seat on the sofa.

Steve follows slowly, and also takes a seat on the sofa, close to her. She looks over at him, still filled with a sense of unreality. After all these years, here he is again. A ghost from the past and a visitor from the future all rolled into one.

Peggy has never questioned the validity of Steve’s explanation. She’s never asked him to prove who he is. She doesn’t have to. If some nefarious force were trying to convince her that Steve Rogers had returned, they would have tried to replicate the boy who disappeared. He would have been the star spangled man with the (secret, nefarious) plan.

This man is not the boy she knew. It’s a relief, actually. Since she definitely isn’t the girl he left behind. Steve hasn’t aged as much as she has, but he has matured in ways beyond his physical years. He’s still a good man, she doubts any amount of time could ever quash that. But he’s lost a hefty measure of his idealism, and nearly all of his innocence. The man he is now is direct, and suffused with pragmatic realism. He has blood on his hands, both metaphorical and literal. But he’s still committed to doing the right thing, even when it’s the most difficult path.

“Why are you here, Steve?” she asks, quietly.

He arches an eyebrow and smiles softly. “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he admits. “And I thought you might like some company on a cold winter’s night.”

She returns the smile, taking another sip of whiskey. “I almost had company,” she muses. “Alex wanted to assign operatives to watch me. It seems that someone is taking out former Hydra assets and facilities.” She looks at him. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

He doesn’t feign innocence. Instead, he gives her an intimate look. “Don’t ask questions unless you want answers.”

“Oh,” she counters easily, laughing, “I already knew it was you. Though I suppose plausible deniability is advisable.”

He seems relieved and sinks back in the couch cushions. 

“Why are you really here?” she asks. She doesn’t know if she’s asking about this _ time _ , or this  _ night _ . 

He finishes his whiskey in one long drink and his lips curl into a sad smile. “I’m done.” He shakes his head. “I thought I would go back.” He smiles. “But I wanted to stay here. So I did.”

She sets her drink aside, turning to face him, tucking her legs up on the couch. “And what are you doing here?” she asks with sincere curiosity. “Cleaning up my messes? Saving the world from some possible future you’ve seen?”

He shrugs. “Maybe a little. Mostly I wanted to spend Christmas with my best girl.”

She frowns. If anyone else had said something so absurd, she would have put them in their place. As it is, she can feel her cheeks burn with a blush. She’s thankful the lighting is dim. She starts to change the subject, but he abruptly scoots closer to her. 

She falls silent, watching him. “Steve - “ But she has no idea what to say.

He smiles. “Peggy.”

The way he says her name causes a tingle of anticipation to curl in the pit of her stomach. She’s never been a stranger to attention from men. Even now, with her hair beginning to gray, she has more than her fair share of admirers. Her most recent serious relationship wasn’t so long ago. 

But none of them have ever been  _ him. _

Steve leans in close to her, invading her personal space. But he doesn’t close the distance. He waits for her. She can see the grain of his beard, smell the alcohol they both drank.

She should make a joke of this, laugh to break the tension.

She doesn’t.

She tilts her head to the side and leans in. His lips are so soft. He tastes like whiskey and promise.

He makes a pleased sound, deep in his throat, and gently pulls her near, kissing her more insistently. Peggy braces her hand against his shoulder, feeling the play of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. He’s so terribly vital. Hunger burns through her.

“So,” he says, his voice a bare whisper, “can I stay for Christmas?”

She nods, pulling him in for another kiss. 

“Why did you really cancel on your nephew?” he asks around kisses.

When she doesn’t answer, he pulls back and looks at her.

She licks her lips, knowing what he wants her to say. “I wanted to see if you’d turn up,” she admits.

He gives her a wolfish smile and stands up, scooping her into his arms in one fluid move. With a yelp, she clings to him. He doesn’t ask where her bedroom is, but he finds it with ease. 

Mere moments later, Peggy has no idea where their clothes are, or how they were removed. All she knows is that his naked skin is pressed to her and it’s more than she ever could have imagined.

But he doesn’t forge ahead. He stops. Waits.

They’re on her bed, on their sides, face to face. She can see the beginnings of fine lines at the corners of his eyes. He looks tired. But not unhappy.

“I love you,” he says softly. It’s not a bold declaration, or a rash admission. It’s a quiet truth. She can feel that he’s lived with this truth for years, become comfortable with it. His love may be worn and frayed around the edges. But it’s hers.

“ _ Oh, Steve _ .” She leans in and kisses him, and he takes it for the invitation it is.

As much as Peggy has cherished the memory of their one frantic kiss before Steve leaped aboard the Valkyrie, she finds she doesn’t miss the immature fumbling. Whatever Steve has done with his time, at least a portion of it involved learning how to make love to a woman.

His touches are knowing, teasing. But he doesn’t torture either of them by prolonging the anticipation. He rolls over onto his back, pulling her with him. She immediately takes the initiative, bracing one hand against his chest as she slides down on him.

His breathy sigh of relief makes her shiver and she begins to move on him in earnest. For a moment, she curses herself for not upping her physical regimen as soon as he returned. But in the end, she doubt it matters. It’s been too long, with years of anticipation and knowhow on both sides. His fingers are as nimble and knowing as she suspected they would be and she is quickly racing to completion. As the wave begins to crest, he’s right there with her.

* * *

Afterwards, they catch their breaths. Steve manages to find some of the covers, which had gone missing. He curls them, and himself, around her in the dark.

* * *

When Peggy finally wakes on Christmas morning, she can tell it’s late. One glance at the window tells her it’s now snowing.

She looks over at Steve. He’s on his side, facing her. There are creases in his cheek from the pillow and his hair is deliciously rumpled.

Peggy laughs.

He opens an eye, squinting at her as his hand finds her hip beneath the covers. “What?” His voice is deep and gravelly from sleep.

She brushes his hair back from his forehead. “I was just wondering what Alex would think if he knew how close his mysterious assassin had gotten to me.”

Steve frowns, pulling her closer. She's well aware that he has a personal ax to grind with Alex. She also knows that Steve is dying to find out if there's been anything more than a professional relationship between her and Alex. But since Steve isn't asking, Peggy isn't offering.

He finally says, “I think it’s safe to say you have nothing to fear from me.”

“Oh, I don't know,” she counters, her fingers skimming up his side, “I’m not accustomed to this level of athleticism in the bedroom. My heart might not be able to take it.”

He gives her a devious smile. “Maybe we should spend Christmas working on your stamina."

Laughing, she says, “You always were the man with the plan.”

END STORY


End file.
